


Dark Days

by BandanaBlue



Series: Troubled Times [3]
Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BandanaBlue/pseuds/BandanaBlue
Summary: Just when they thought it was all over....  (This story is off-canon)
Series: Troubled Times [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1436245
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	Dark Days

"It's finished." 

Those had been Hannibal Heyes' exact words but, as far as his partner Kid Curry was concerned, the only thing that was finished was their search for the men who, a year ago, had viciously attacked them on a remote trail and left them for dead. The dark days that had dogged them since the attack, were not.

Having abandoned the bodies of the two Murdstone brothers to the coyotes, the former outlaws rode as long and hard as they could whilst leading a horse each, in order to put as much distance as possible between them and the scene of their revenge. 

Sundown was fast approaching by the time they paused at a signpost which stated 'Listerville - three miles'. After a short discussion it was decided that Heyes, along with their own horses, should remain hidden amid a dense stand of trees set a few hundred yards off the road while Kid, equipped with a plausible story, took the brothers' mounts into town to sell at the livery stable. Since the day of the attack, Heyes had experienced frequent agonizing headaches and, despite protestations that he was fine, Kid was adamant that it would be best if he did not have to face the long walk back from town.

A little over an hour later and feeling very pleased with the price he had negotiated for both horses and gear, Kid started back down the road to their camp. Although it was dark, a bright waning moon appeared now and then from behind the clouds, shining just enough light to enable him to safely jog part of the way. Soon he spied a small campfire and, in case Heyes happened to be feeling a little jumpy, he approached with caution.

"It's only me," he hissed. 

The response was an unsettling silence.

His hand drifting toward his holster Kid tried again, a little louder, and this time he used his partner's alias. "Joshua, I'm back."

There was still no reply so Kid drew his Colt and stepped into the small clearing, half expecting to see his partner bound and gagged and with a gun pointed at his head. He was therefore pleasantly surprised, but also a little irritated, to see him leaning against an upturned saddle with his boots stretched toward the fire.

"Hey! Didn't you hear me call ya?" 

When Heyes didn't move Kid rushed to his side, seized his shoulder and shook it. A quick inspection for knife or bullet wounds followed, but neither were found. He then dipped his head to his partner's chest and listened carefully, eventually detecting a muffled heartbeat. Relieved, but still determined to elicit a response, Kid gave the man's face a sharp slap. Long dark lashes flickered, but Heyes didn't rouse fully. The blond gunman sat back on his heels and frowned. _Was Heyes sick? Whatever this was, it had sure come on fast._

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a small movement and he looked down at the very moment something rolled from Heyes' hand. Snatching it up, he saw it was a bottle of laudanum. Now, Heyes had seemed fine all day, a little groggy first thing, but that was not unusual. He had certainly made no mention of a headache. 

_Aaww, Heyes. What the hell have you done?_ Curry dropped the bottle into his coat pocket and slumped heavily against a nearby tree. He sat for some time watching his unconscious partner but it wasn't long before he found himself fighting to stay awake. The day had been physically and emotionally taxing and both his body and mind craved sleep, but he couldn't allow it. One of them needed to be on watch especially as they were so close to town. 

His head had just begun to nod again when a familiar voice jolted him awake.

"Jed, are you there?" The words were a little slurred.

"I'm here." 

Noting that Heyes appeared to be trying to lick his lips Kid asked, "You thirsty?"

"Sleepy." 

"I kinda figured that." Kid un-stoppered one of their canteens and held it to Heyes' lips. "Here, drink some water."

Still struggling to open his eyes Heyes took a mouthful. 

"How much of that damn stuff you taken, Heyes?" asked Kid, sharply.

"Mmmm?"

"The laudanum. You took some didn't ya? Why?"

"Needed it."

"For what? You sure wasn't sufferin' when I left for town."

With a dismissive grunt Heyes attempted to turn away from his friend but Curry grabbed his arm. "Oh, no you don't. You ain't goin' back to sleep 'til you tell me what's goin' on."

Attempting to make more of an effort, Heyes' heavy eyelids opened just enough to connect with the intense blue gaze. "Didn't want... any pain," he mumbled, thickly.

"That stuff can be dangerous. You can't go taking it without good reason."

"Sleep. Wanted to... sleep."

"You can sleep fine without it."

Heyes slowly shook his head causing his dusty black hat to tumble to the ground where it lay, uncharacteristically ignored by its owner. 

Even though their vengeance was now complete, it had occurred to Kid that, despite the deep-seated hatred his partner had felt towards those men, it was possible that he would struggle to reconcile his actions. Hannibal Heyes may have once been be a notorious outlaw leader with a substantial price on his head, but deep down he was not a killer and, until a little over twelve months ago, would never have set out to deliberately end someone's life. 

"You gotta stop taking this stuff!"

Heyes uttered another grunt before oblivion claimed him once more.

The thud of restless hooves finally penetrated Kid Curry's sub-conscious. A glance up at the sky told him he had missed the dawn by some hours. _Dammit!_ He had not meant to fall asleep, let alone sleep for so long. He got to his feet and nudged Heyes, none too gently, with the toe of his boot. 

"C'mon, it's late. We gotta be movin' on."

Hannibal Heyes rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "Moving on? Where to?"

"I dunno, Heyes. Anywhere! That's what we do now... _move on_ ," Kid replied testily as he stomped over to the tethered mounts.

"I need coffee," yawned Heyes. Then, catching sight of the cold ashes of the camp fire his shoulders drooped. "Guess I'll have to wait."

"We could've been long gone by now," griped Kid as he vigorously shook a saddle blanket, producing a cloud of dust.

"Jeez, someone sure got out on the wrong side of his bedroll this morning."

"Do you see a bedroll anywhere?"

Taking a moment to look about him Heyes realized that neither of them had slept on their bedrolls. He hated sleeping directly on the cold hard ground. No wonder his bones ached. With a puzzled frown he asked, "How'd that happen?"

"Things might be a whole lot different this mornin' if you hadn't drugged yourself into a stupor last night!"

"What are you talking about?"

Kid paused mid-way through heaving the saddle onto his horse's back. "You don't remember, do you?"

Heyes shrugged. "I guess not."

Not trusting himself to keep a civil tone Kid Curry held his tongue and concentrated on buckling up his cinch. These days, whether they were in town or out on the trail, being on the dodge meant they both needed to be alert and it was now becoming obvious that, in this regard, Heyes could no longer be relied upon. 

Over the course of the next few weeks they passed through a number of small towns, staying in cheap boarding houses and run down hotels, and gradually using up the wages from their last job. Kid did his best to keep Heyes from acquiring any more laudanum but this proved impossible as it could be purchased almost anywhere for a few cents. He threw away bottle after bottle. Heyes made no comment — he just got another. This went on until Kid didn't see any for two whole days, bringing him to the conclusion that his cousin was now hiding it. 

Eventually, he suggested they should try and save some of their rapidly disappearing dollars by avoiding towns for a while. A lack of work together with an absence of luck at the poker tables prompted Heyes' agreement, so they packed in some supplies and hit the trail hoping to find a good out-of-the-way spot where they could relax and do some fishing.

They were two days ride from the last town when the weather turned bad. Dark storm clouds filled the sky in every direction, the wind blew at almost gale force, and rain and hail beat against their dripping hats and saturated coats with a bruising ferocity. 

Wet through to his skin and tired of the effort it was taking to encourage an increasingly defiant horse to maintain a fast pace in the vain hope of outrunning the bad weather, Curry began to toy with the idea of turning back. He dismissed this, however, after having come to the unfortunate conclusion that the river they had crossed several miles back would have burst its banks by now, thereby cutting off the route back to the main trail.

Unsure as to whether he would be heard over the roar of the wind, Kid shouted at his partner's hunched back, "We can't do this much longer." 

Heyes' pale face appeared briefly over his shoulder and as his hand came up to tighten his stampede strings Kid noticed it was shaking.

"Gotta find shelter soon, Kid. I'm real cold."

******

They came upon the cabin quite by accident tucked in a nook at the base of a low cliff. Gun in hand, Kid Curry was quickly out of his saddle to check if anyone was at home, but the place was empty. There were no fresh tracks in the immediate vicinity either and, although the cabin had not been used in a while, it appeared to be in pretty good shape.

Kid emerged just in time to see Heyes slowly slide from his saddle and take a few wobbly steps backwards. "Whoa! You okay?" 

"Fine. Just... need... to get... warm," he replied through chattering teeth.

"I'll finish up out here. You get inside."

"I can see to my own horse."

With a look that said the matter was not up for discussion, Curry took hold of Heyes' reins. "Inside," he ordered, kindly. 

Not having the energy to argue Heyes nodded his thanks and, saddlebags in hand, made his way inside. 

Having located a small lean-to which would serve adequately as a stable, Kid tended to their horses and by the time he joined his partner the first flames of a fire were flickering in the small grate. The room was not yet warm, yet Kid was quick to notice that despite still being clad in his cold wet clothes, Heyes was no longer shaking.

The cabin turned out to be quite comfortable. It had two rooms; a large one in which there was a table and two chairs, a crudely constructed cupboard containing tin cups, plates and cutlery, and a slightly wonky shelf stacked with a few pots and pans. The second was situated to the right of the fireplace, had no window and was considerably smaller. It had probably been intended as a storeroom for dry goods, but the previous occupant had used it to sleep in. The low, iron-frame bed it contained took up most of the space and was just about large enough to accommodate them both. They had been together too long to be bothered about sleeping in such close proximity and had appreciated the advantage of shared body heat on many a freezing night in the past. 

The next morning the wind had become a little less wild but the heavy rain continued to fall. Donning still damp coats they chopped as much wood as they could, piling it up close to the fire to dry it out and, while he was still wet Kid went hunting, bringing back a jackrabbit and a couple of pheasants. These, along with their supplies, which had stayed surprisingly dry during the journey, would ensure they were not going to starve any time soon. 

It was a few days later, upon his return from another of these forays, that Kid Curry was faced with a situation which was becoming increasingly commonplace. 

"Got us another fat ol' rabbit!" Grinning triumphantly Kid stepped through the cabin door, but his face soon fell. Heyes was seated at the table, his head resting in his arms; he did not respond to his cousin's remark nor to the thump of the large jackrabbit as it landed on the table next to his head. 

_That does it!_ Turning abruptly Kid stalked into the bedroom and shook his partner's saddlebags. At the sound of a faint clink he reached inside and pulled out a velvet pouch; it contained three small glass bottles all labelled 'Poison. Laudanum', one of which was almost empty. Anger and frustration bubbled up inside him as he stared at the brown liquid. _I'm gonna get you right, Heyes — whatever it takes — and I'm gonna start now!_ Still clutching the bottles in his hand he strode purposefully past the comatose figure and out of the cabin, not stopping until he reached a lake he had come upon, by accident, yesterday morning.

Without a moment's hesitation Kid drew back his arm and hurled the three bottles as far over the still grey water as he could. Three bullets followed shattering the offending articles and raining tiny shards of glass, as well as the contents, into the lake. 

On his way back to the cabin Kid took time to reflect on his conversation with the doctor back in Green Ridge on the day he had purchased a bottle of laudanum, not unlike the ones he had just destroyed, to ease Heyes' headaches. The doctor had been quick to warn him that, despite its widespread use for everything from coughs to snake bites, the medical profession was becoming cautious about prescribing laudanum as it had been found to be not only addictive, but in some cases, deadly. 

Kid frowned to himself as he recollected the man's advice. _What had he called it? Oh, yeah, 're-hab-il-i-tation'._ He had not known the word so the doctor had explained it to him. Essentially, there were two ways in which Heyes could stop taking the drug. He could be weaned off with Kid supervising the taking of each dose and reducing it a little each time or, and only if Kid felt he could cope with the consequences, he could be denied it completely. The doctor had also described the symptoms and possible repercussions that he may have to deal with during this process. 

While Curry didn't much like the sound of either option, he knew that Hannibal Heyes was much too devious a character to be trusted not to somehow 'top up' a reduced dose. Complete abstinence, therefore, looked to be the only way.

The rabbit had been skinned and gutted, and Kid was placing the jointed portions into a hot skillet when Heyes eventually raised his head, his bleary eyes struggling to focus.

"Enjoy your nap?" Curry had a hard time keeping the sarcasm from his voice.

Ignoring the question, Heyes rubbed his hands over his face and asked, "When did you get back?" 

"An hour ago." Kid held up a piece of meat. "You hungry?"

"Thirsty."

Walking unsteadily over to the water bucket Heyes filled a tin cup and drank deeply. Then, without a word, he crossed the room and went outside. 

Kid was certainly not blind to the lack of eye contact on Heyes' part. Maybe he had assumed his friend would be out hunting for longer, or maybe he had accidentally taken a little too much laudanum. Whichever it was, he was obviously embarrassed at being discovered asleep in the middle of the day.

When Heyes returned, his collar was wet and his shirt sleeves were dark up to his elbows from sluicing his face and neck with water at the nearby creek but, at least he looked more alert.

"Jeez, I can't believe it's still raining. We're gonna have to swim outta here instead of ride!" he remarked, good-naturedly, firmly closing the cabin door against the elements.

The lack of a smile from the Kid was a little unusual and so he made a show of sniffing at the meat cooking over the fire. "Now, that had better not be squirrel!" 

"No. Rabbit, again. How's about you make some biscuits to go with it."

"Sure."

Watching him out of the corner of his eye Kid couldn't help but marvel at his partner's ability to function under the drug's influence as Heyes measured out all the ingredients and set about mixing them together. When the meat was cooked, piled on a plate, and set down on the hearth to keep warm, Heyes used the same pan for his dough, placing it on the tall spider and covering it with a large tin lid. Twenty minutes later the biscuits were ready, slightly blackened by the rabbit fat but edible nonetheless, and the two former outlaws sat down to their meal. As usual, Kid ate heartily but Heyes barely managed one biscuit and a small portion of meat. He mostly drank water. 

Having swallowed his last mouthful Curry sat back in his chair with a sated sigh. "I hate to say it, Heyes, but those horses need muckin' out and brushing down." He felt in his vest pocket and pulled out the quarter he kept tucked away 'for emergencies'. "Wanna flip a coin to see who does what?" 

Heyes didn't feel like doing anything but sleep, let alone muck out a stable. Somewhat reluctantly he chose 'heads'. The coin spun in the air and, luckily for him, he won. Kid didn't wait to hear his choice. 

"I know. I'm muckin' out."

This simple, routine task was normally performed in perfect concert but today, mainly due to Heyes' sluggishness, it took the greater part of the afternoon. 

After a small supper of leftovers, Heyes produced a pack of cards and they settled down to play a few hands of blackjack. For a while it appeared that normality had returned until, despite winning most of the hands, Heyes began to get restless. He scratched at his arms, ran his hands through his hair and even stood up and sat down a couple of times. Upon standing for a third time he excused himself and retreated to the bedroom, only to return a minute or so later with a deep scowl etched on his face.

"Somethin' wrong?" Kid's question was empty — he knew exactly what was wrong. Heyes wanted his next dose of laudanum, but had discovered the bottles were missing. 

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing....I...uh...." Heyes shook his head and tried his best to turn on a smile. "How does a little five card stud sound?"

"Sounds good to me. I'm feelin' kinda lucky tonight, so I think I may even win a few hands."

Kid Curry was not wrong in that regard. He won the majority of the hands prompting Heyes to comment sourly that it was a pity he couldn't produce that kind of form when they were playing for real money in a saloon, instead of in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, playing for matchsticks.

Play continued until, right out of the blue and in the middle of placing a bet, Hannibal Heyes, consummate gambler, abandoned his hand with a grumpy, "I'm going to bed," before striding into the bedroom and slamming the door shut. 

Kid stared at the closed door thinking what a good idea it had been to move his gear out into the main room the other night. Heyes was not usually a restless sleeper; the only time he was guilty of waking him in the middle of the night was if he wanted to talk about a plan. But, since they had been at the cabin he had disturbed him repeatedly, tossing and turning, scratching and mumbling, and prompting the Kid to choose to sleep on his bedroll on the cabin floor instead of a constantly rocking mattress. 

Out of curiosity Kid turned over Heyes' hole card to reveal the three of clubs. Although they were only playing for fun Kid concluded that Heyes must really be suffering. The four cards that completed his hand were the two of spades, four of clubs, five of hearts and an ace of diamonds. It was not like him to abandon a straight, no matter what the circumstances.

******

The two brimming buckets Kid held in each hand slopped water over his mud-caked boots as, early the following morning, he shouldered open the cabin door. 

"What the—!"

The room was a mess. His bedroll had been overturned and the cupboard emptied all over the floor. The contents of both their saddlebags were strewn across the table.

Dressed only in his underwear Hannibal Heyes ignored his cousin's exclamation and continued rummaging through the woodpile, pushing large logs out of the way and tossing smaller pieces of wood indiscriminately over his shoulder. 

"Where is it?" he demanded.

"Where's what?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You know damn well what I'm talking about. The laudanum. _I need it._ " 

"What you _need_ is to go back to bed. You're sick." 

Chunks of wood flew in all directions, some cracking and showering splinters as they bounced and rolled across the bare floorboards. Kid set the buckets down at his feet and, dodging a small airborne log, took hold of his cousin's arm.

"Take your filthy hands off me!" Angrily, Heyes shook himself free and resumed his assault on the woodpile. 

"You're wasting' your time, Heyes. The stuff ain't here. It's gone."

"Gone?" Heyes rose menacingly. "What the hell do you mean 'gone'?" 

The danger now emanating from the former outlaw leader would have made a lesser man back away but Kid held his ground and, with a shrug, answered simply, "I got rid of it."

Heyes' lip curled into a contemptuous sneer. "You're a liar. You've got it stashed away somewhere. I know what you're like. You want it all for yourself. You're a selfish bastard, always have been."

The slurs stung. At any other time Kid would not have hesitated in flattening his partner for those words, but today he knew he was dealing with a man who was no longer in control of himself. Using every ounce of his self-control he dismissed the hurt he felt and replied, "I ain't the one using that stuff, Heyes, but you are and you've gotta stop. If you don't, it'll destroy you."

"Shut up! It's here. I know it's here. GIVE IT TO ME!!" 

Realizing that his friend was not hearing him, nor had any intention of doing so, Curry stayed silent. He merely shook his head and began to re-stack some of the wood. 

Eyes ablaze, Heyes stood clenching and unclenching his fists then, ignoring the splintered wood under his bare feet, he stomped back into the bedroom only to emerge again seconds later. 

"Hand it over you fuckin' snake!"

With a weary sigh Kid turned and was met with a sight that he never dreamed he would see — his partner aiming a loaded gun straight at his heart. 

"I’ll use it," Heyes snarled. He pulled back the hammer.

Still Curry didn't react. He merely held out his hand, his fingers beckoning as he softly entreated, " C'mon, Heyes, hand it over." 

"You ain't coming one step closer without the stuff." 

"Then we're gonna stand here a real long time, 'cause like I already told ya, I got rid of it. Now, give me the gun."

Kid Curry had seen his partner's eyes turn almost black with anger on numerous occasions, but this was the first time he had seen them shine with what he could only describe as madness. Ignoring the gun he focussed entirely on the man holding it. He inched forward. "You won't shoot me." Another step closer. "Y' know you shouldn't be handlin' a gun right now, partner. You ain't y'self."

"I only need one bottle, dammit.” Sweat stung Heyes’ eyes. He ran a trembling hand over his face. "Give me THE GODDAMN STUFF!" 

The Schofield began to wobble dangerously in Heyes' unsteady grip. Then, without warning, a loud crack ripped through the charged atmosphere and a .45 calibre slug embedded itself deep in the cabin door.

Kid Curry took a faltering step backwards, knocking over both water buckets. Continuing to stumble, his boot slid over one of the logs that Heyes had flung out of the woodpile and he fell heavily, the back of his head hitting the wet floor with a sickening thud. 

An oppressive silence filled the room as a pair of brown eyes, suddenly devoid of all malice, stared at the motionless figure with the terrifying red stain on his pale blue shirt. 

"Jed." The sound that escaped Heyes' lips was little more than a whisper. He took a shuddering breath and tried again. "Jed?" 

Slowly, he looked down at the smoking gun in his hand and recoiled, dropping it as if it were white hot. The sound of the pistol hitting the floor somehow brought him to his senses and he fell to his knees at his partner's side. "No. You can't... you can't be..."

What had he done? Jedediah Curry was his cousin, the only family he had left in this God-forsaken world and he had shot him. He had killed his own kin! 

"NO!" 

Heyes' anguished cry resonated off the bare cabin walls. Although distraught, he could still feel his body craving the drug with an intensity he couldn't deny, threatening to overwhelm every other emotion, and he despised himself for it. 

He had been so sure that the desire that had governed his every waking moment for the past year had ended. The desire that had seen him, a man known for his affability and self-control, succumb to the dark side of his personality in order to hunt down three men and kill two of them in cold blood. But now, a totally different desire — an excruciating, but strangely exquisite craving — had taken control and this was the result. 

Grief stricken as well as irrational, Heyes now believed that the wrong man lay there on the floor. Why hadn't the Kid shot him? He was the one who should be dead. After all, he was the one with the problem; it was he who, not five minutes ago, had uttered cruel words and thought worse. His hand hovered above his partner's holster. _No. Not the Kid's Colt. Where's my pistol?!_

Fiercely brushing away the tears from his cheeks Heyes eyes searched the floor and spied the weapon among the discarded pieces of wood. He was just about to make a lunge toward it when he heard a low moan. He froze. _Now this madness had him hearing things!_ The sound of movement behind him made him turn to see Kid rolling his head from side to side.

"Kid!"

Blue eyes slowly opened.

"You're alive. I can't believe it!"

There was another groan as Kid Curry tentatively touched the back of his head and found a large tender lump. Well, that would account for the headache he had right now, but it did not explain the intense burning. He put his hand to the source of the pain and felt a sticky patch on his shirt front. The room spun a little as he heaved himself onto one elbow and pulled his shirt and henley to one side to reveal an oozing red gash across the top of his shoulder.

Kid glared accusingly at his cousin. "You shot me!"

"I-I know. I'm sorry. The-the gun... I didn't... It wasn't..." Heyes' silver tongue deserted him as he attempted to explain. Eventually he managed to string a few words together. "It was a mistake."

"Well, that makes it okay then." Kid's acerbic reply ended in a hiss as his finger probed the wound. "I guess I'm lucky. It's only a crease. A couple more inches and you'd have shot me in the neck!"

Overcome with remorse Heyes' tear-filled eyes stared down at the floor.

"Don't just sit there, Heyes," Kid said, testily, holding out his hand for assistance. "I gotta get this cleaned up. We've got some whiskey, don’t we?"

Eagerly, Heyes scrambled to his feet and helped his injured partner to stand. Once Kid had stopped swaying he ushered him to one of the chairs at the table. 

"I'll go get it," he said, leaving the Kid dabbing at the blood with his bandana while he went back into the bedroom, only to return holding something behind his back which he hesitatingly placed on the table.

"Sorry." 

Kid looked first at the empty bottle, then at his cousin. "That was more'n half full yesterday." 

Shamefaced, Heyes answered, "Last night, when I couldn't find the laudanum... I, uh..."

Blue eyes flashed. "Well, that's dandy! Real dandy!" 

"I'm sorry, Kid. I'm so sorry. Just tell me what I can do," pleaded Heyes.

"Well, as it happens, there is somethin'."

"Anything!" Heyes desperately wanted to make amends.

"I'm real glad you said that, 'cause I want you to go back into that room."

Brown eyes blinked questioningly.

Summoning every bit of his resolve as he fought both the pain and the spinning room, Kid slowly got to his feet and advanced toward his partner, who backed up a few steps. "Uh, Kid...?"

"You're gonna go back into that room and you're gonna stay there 'til you don't need that stuff anymore." Kid's tone was cool, bordering on icy. "It won't be easy and it sure won't be pretty, but you're gonna do it." 

"I don't know, Kid. I don't know if I can."

" _Sure_ you can." Kid smiled, but it wasn't friendly. "You shot me, Heyes, and in my book that means _you owe me_. So, from now on, you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya. Understand?" 

Heyes knew Kid was right. He did owe him. And if he wanted his cousin to forgive him, he had to try. Without another word he walked back into the bedroom and, this time, he shut the door quietly. 

Kid Curry clenched his teeth and cursed to himself as he bathed the groove the bullet had gouged out of his flesh with the dregs of whiskey that remained at the bottom of the bottle. He then picked out a roll of bandage from the mess on the table and wrapped it across his shoulder and around his chest several times, hoping that it would apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. Doing this by himself was not easy but, until his temper cooled, he didn't want Heyes anywhere near him. He also didn't want to use a sling. He would need both arms free of any restriction if Heyes got feisty again.

Once the dizziness subsided to a level he could manage he ventured outside to the creek and refilled one of the buckets, together with their canteens. 

Back in the cabin, he swapped the full bucket for the empty one and eased open the bedroom door. Heyes was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He didn't look up.

Placing the bucket in the corner of the room Kid then unhooked Heyes' empty gun belt from where it dangled from a nail in the wall beside the bed, and replaced it with one of the full canteens.

"The pail is so you won't have reason go outside,” he stated and, thrusting the second canteen at his partner, added, "And this is 'cause you gotta drink plenty."

When Heyes didn't respond, Kid sloshed the water around in the canteen and raised his voice, " _I said_ , 'You gotta drink plenty'."

"I heard ya!"

"Don't go gettin' proddy with me, Heyes. You agreed to do as I say. Anyways, I'm only followin' the doctor's instructions."

Heyes raised his head. "What doctor?"

"The one back in Green Ridge when I told him how much laudanum you was takin'. Looks like I was right to worry."

Almost as if he had forgotten what had transpired less than an hour ago, Heyes grumbled, "I'd be fine if you'd let me have the stuff."

"Now, don't go startin' that again. Drink!" 

Heyes scowled, snatched at the canteen and took a few swallows. "There! Happy now?"

"Yep. Now, you stay here while I go make us some soup. That rabbit carcass should cook up real nice."

"I'm not hungry." Sulkily, Heyes swung his legs up onto the bed and hugged his knees to his chest. 

As it happened, the soup turned out better than expected and, having somehow managed to make a threat sound a lot like encouragement, Kid persuaded Heyes to eat a little. 

**************

Wooden legs scraped on the bare floorboards as Kid Curry dragged the chair across the room. There was no lock on the bedroom door and the only way Kid could think of to prevent his desperate partner from wandering off during the night in search of the drug he craved, was to place himself across the doorway. Hoping to guarantee a little light and warmth until dawn Kid banked up the fire, settled in the chair, put his feet up on the end of the bed and covered himself with a blanket. He could usually sleep anywhere, anytime, but how much sleep he would get tonight was another matter. Both his shoulder and head were throbbing, but he could not risk losing Heyes to the wilderness outside.

Almost an hour passed before he dozed off, but that was only until the smallest of sounds jolted him awake in time to catch a glimpse of something glinting in the dwindling firelight. 

"You'd better not be plannin' on using that." 

Hannibal Heyes came to an abrupt halt. The glint disappeared.

Kid sighed to himself. Hitting his head on the floor this afternoon must have dulled his reasoning — he had Heyes' gun but had completely forgotten about his boots and the small blade the former thief kept therein. 

"I've already seen the knife, Heyes, there's no use tryin' to hide it. What were you gonna do? Cut my throat if I didn't give you the stuff? I already told you; _the stuff's gone_. Drop it on the bed." Curry was in no mood for games and so, when Heyes didn't move, Kid eased his Colt from under the blanket and growled, "Do it."

The knife landed on the bed and, muttering to himself, Heyes slipped back under the covers. 

Still keeping his eyes on his cousin Kid got to his feet, holstered his gun, and then reached into his pocket to pull out a saddle string. Assuming that Heyes' reactions would be slower than usual, and bracing himself for the pain that he knew would shoot through his shoulder, he seized the man's wrist and wound the long strip of leather around it. 

"What the hell are you doing!" yelled Heyes as he fought to snatch his hand away. But Kid was too fast, and before Heyes knew what was happening his right hand was bound to the bed frame. Neatly dodging the other fist as it swung toward his head Kid backed away, out of reach.

"This won't hold me. I'll get free. You know I will."

"Well now, I know you find it real easy to break outta other folks' bindings, Heyes, but you've never been tied up by me before. Go ahead, try all you want. You won't get free." He watched impassively as the captured wrist twisted back and forth and the once nimble fingers picked at the tight knots. Soon his disgruntled partner's skin was red and sore and when Heyes finally flopped back onto the mattress, defeated, he couldn't help uttering a smug, "Told ya."

Confident now that Heyes could not try to run, the next time Kid opened his eyes daylight had begun to filter through the small cabin window. Instinctively, he looked over at his cousin and he didn't like what he saw. Heyes' skin was ashen. His hair was slick with sweat and stuck to his face in long wet clumps, and despite having the blankets pulled up tight under his chin, he was shivering uncontrollably. Kid placed his hand on the damp forehead. 

"Feelin' bad, huh?"

"T-terrible," Heyes replied. "I'm s-so cold... and every p-piece of me hurts."

"That's pretty much what the doc said would happen. I'm gonna make some coffee. You want some?"

"S'pose it m-might... w-warm me up."

It wasn't long before the dying embers of the fire were coaxed back to life and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the cabin.

"Here, try this." 

A shaking hand found its way out from under the covers and attempted grasp the warm tin cup. Rather than see the contents spilled everywhere Kid didn't surrender it, suggesting instead that his partner sit up a little so that he could hold the cup to his lips. Heyes had only taken a couple of mouthfuls before he pulled back shaking his head, leaned over the side of the bed and threw up into the bucket. It was some time before he was done. 

Kid stayed sitting on the bed, his warm, reassuring hand on Heyes shoulder until only intermittent dry heaves remained, then he went back into the main room to dip his bandana in the water bucket. At the sound of his partner's returning footsteps Hannibal Heyes passed the back of his hand across his mouth and flopped onto his back with a groan. Gently mopping the pale, sweat-covered face with the wet bandana, Kid quipped, "Now you know how _I_ feel when I drink _your_ coffee!"

"How long did the doc say I would be like this?" Heyes asked. He was feeling too ill to register the jibe.

"A week or two, maybe more."

Another loud groan.

"I guess you'll not be wantin' any more of my coffee then."

Heyes grimaced and shook his head. 

"Best stick to water," stated Kid and before Heyes could object, he added, "You've gotta drink, even if all you do is bring it up again."

"That something else the doc told you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Aaww, Jeez."

Heyes lay still while the cool cloth was applied to his face but, as Kid stood to leave, he grabbed his sleeve. Kid tensed, preparing to dodge another punch, but soon relaxed as Heyes smiled faintly and croaked, "Thanks, Kid."

Kid Curry lost count of how many times he emptied the bucket that day, but he did it without complaint. Heyes, on the other hand, had complained — a lot. When he wasn't sleeping fitfully he threw up, drank a little water, then threw up some more. He moaned and cursed, and yelled.

Late in the afternoon, as the blond gunman made the return trip from the creek for what he hoped would be the last time until dawn, he heard a shout. Dropping the bucket he covered the last few yards at speed and burst through the cabin door.

"Kid." 

The sound of desperation in that single word drew him to the bedroom to see Heyes crouched beside the bed with a pair of soiled long johns around his ankles. 

"I couldn't...." He choked back a sob as he confessed, "I couldn't get to the bucket." 

"It's okay. It's my fault," said Kid, quickly cutting the leather binding with his pocket knife and helping him to his feet. "I should have untied you as soon as you started being sick." 

Heyes hung his head and rubbed at his sore wrist. He already felt ill and weak and now this. This just completed his humiliation. Standing there in front of his friend, half naked and shivering, he yearned for one more dose of laudanum. Just one. But he knew that was never going to happen. Kid was telling the truth. There was none in the cabin. And anyway, he had given his word that he would stop. 

"Step outta those," Kid instructed, matter-of-factly. "Lucky I got some water on to heat, huh?" Heyes looked away as his friend scooped the offending long johns into the bucket. 

Not wishing to add to Heyes' indignity, Kid filled a bowl with warm water which he handed to his partner together with a rag. "Here. You get cleaned up. I'll find you a clean pair of drawers."

Later, having laundered the long johns as best he could Kid leaned against the door frame and studied his now sleeping friend, his resolve to see him back to his old self increasing by the minute. Knowing Heyes as well as he did, he had been expecting some yelling and a lot of brooding silence, neither of which bothered him. What he did find difficult was seeing tears in the man's eyes. Heyes rarely wept, but when he did it cut the gunman up inside like nothing else. Today, his partner's distress was even harder to take because it was down to him. _He_ had tied Heyes to the bed and although he knew it had been to keep him safe, having done it at all didn't sit easy with Kid. 

When the curled-up figure looked to be stirring a little Curry asked, softly, "How's that wrist? Does it need bandaging?" But there was no answer; still overwhelmed with embarrassment Heyes turned to face the wall and pulled the blanket up over his head. Seeing that he was shivering again Kid fetched the two blankets from his own bedroll together with their coats and spread them over the bed. 

Now that his partner looked as though he didn't have enough strength to leave the room, let alone flee the cabin, Curry no longer felt the need to guard the doorway. Instead he lounged across the end of the bed, propped up against the cabin wall, so that he could be there if Heyes needed anything. It also meant he could share a portion of the blankets. He did not sleep well, however, being constantly disturbed by Heyes' fever-like restlessness, and periodic vomiting. The decision to untie his partner proved to be the right one because, several times during the night, he only just made it out of bed in time to use the bucket.

During the days that followed, Heyes' withdrawal raged on and, even after the frequent vomiting eased, he spent many a waking hour fighting stomach cramps, holding his belly as he doubled over in pain. Although the doctor had not specified how long these symptoms would last, to Kid the whole process seemed to be taking much longer than he had anticipated and he began to seriously doubt the wisdom of taking Heyes away from civilization, and especially medical care, in order to do this. 

It was almost three weeks later when, a little after dawn, Kid's eyes sprang open at the sound of.... silence. Alarmed, he scrambled up the bed to check on Heyes before loudly breathing out a sigh of relief. The unthinkable hadn't happened. He was merely sleeping peacefully. Now, Kid was not so naive as to think it was all over just yet but, hoping that the worst was behind them, the gunman did something he hadn't done since he was a child. He offered up a prayer of thanks.

*****

"Well, I'll be...!" 

"I hope you've found the salt or these beans are gonna taste real bland." Hannibal Heyes crouched next to the camp fire, stirring a bubbling pot.

"I'm still lookin'." Kid groped around in his saddlebags some more then handed his cousin a twist of paper. Heyes undid it and threw some salt into the pot before turning his attention back to the Kid to see what else he had found. The blond held up a crumpled velvet pouch. 

Stirring the beans again Heyes remarked, absently, "I don't know why you've still got that. There's no laudanum in it."

"And it's gonna stay that way."

"Y' know, there was a time I'd have torn that saddlebag apart if I'd thought we had some of that stuff. Must be...oh, a year since I took any."

"Fourteen months and three days," affirmed Kid, quietly.

"You've been counting?"

"Yep, but I didn't wanna say anythin'. Might've jinxed it."

Heyes snorted. "Jinxed what?"

"You not needing it anymore. You _don't_ want it anymore, do ya?" Kid asked, warily.

Heyes stared thoughtfully into the fire, the golden light of the flickering flames playing across his handsome features. Features which were no longer sallow and drawn; something Kid was thankful for every single day. With a smile that could only be described as wistful Heyes shook his head. 

"No. Not anymore. I did though, for a time, but I kept remembering what the doc told you — that it would eventually kill me." Soft brown eyes turned toward his partner. "I couldn't have done it without you, Kid. You saved my life."

Curry smiled modestly and, embarrassed by Heyes' heartfelt words, stared at the pouch in his hands. 

"Problem is," Heyes continued. "I can't take even a little now. So, if I happen to stop a bullet—" 

Kid looked up and raised his hand, making Heyes pause mid-sentence. "It's my business to see that you don't."

"I could still get one of those headaches."

"Well now, you ain't had one of them since..." Kid was surprised how reluctant he was to voice the words. Neither man had felt the need to mention the day of the killings, until now. 

"I guess not."

Both men found themselves lost in their own thoughts for a time until Curry broke the silence. "I know it sounds crazy but, I figure shootin' those two cured you of those doggone headaches."

Heyes gave his cousin a sideways glance. "You're right, it does sound crazy."

"No, Heyes, hear me out. What Butler and those other two bastards did to us, well, it was eatin' you up inside and giving you all that pain. You needed somethin' to stop it, some kinda release, and killing them... was it."

Aware that Kid's nights were no longer disturbed by bad dreams, Heyes' eyes met the intense blue gaze with an intensity of their own.

" _We_ needed that release, Kid, not just me. We both needed to see it end, once and for all."


End file.
